YEAR 1
by guardian921
Summary: This is a certain villian's perspective of the last scene in the comic SCARECROW: YEAR ONE. **NOT A SEQUEL**


A/N: this is a fanfic based off of the comic _YEAR ONE: BATMAN/SCARECROW. _If you are confused, all I can say is to read the comic. I did my best in narrating the basic ending. I hope you enjoy this, as I try to find time to write while also attending school and working on my collage prep. For whoever is reading this: _WRITE STORIES!!_ There are too many stories about the Joker, Two-Face, and Catwoman out there. Scarecrow is the real villain who needs stories wriiten about him. So be a fellow fan and

help the world know his stories!! OR ELSE!!! Thanku. 

YEAR TWO

BATMAN

SCARECROW

WRITTEN BY

GUARDIAN921

It was an unpleasantly hot and humid night as the Georgia sun set over the horizon, as were many of the summers in the southern states. Among the vast plains sat a rickety old cabin, its yard filled with random odds-n-ends and objects that most would simply give up to the great heavens of dump yards. An ancient pickup truck sat decomposing in the over grown grass, facing a cliff with a 23-foot drop into an icy river and boulders.

Outside the cabin a figure stood in the darkness, watching it intently as he waited, like a scarecrow watching over its field, standing by to frighten any crows away. Funny thing was though, it was a scarecrow. The figure fiddled with a long knife, a stiletto to be exact, visualizing the task at hand, which brought a malevolent grin to his face. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do, and he would enjoy every bit of it. This was the last step in the ultimate plan. Sighing, he recalled all that he had done; all the success he had gained through this.

Suddenly an outline caught his attention; it was her. Slinking out of his hiding place, he silently followed her at a distance. She was a beautiful woman, despite her age, and he could not help but stare at her for a moment; but only a moment. She had a paper bag of groceries in her arms as she walked up to the door and opened it. From his murky corner beside the house he could tell that she held herself in an innocent, happy house-wife way.

"Charlie? I'm --"she called out, but stopped at the sight of something and finished quietly, followed by screams of horror. "home? CHARLIE!! God in heaven, what are you-"

"THAT'S IT!!!" a man's southern voice roared furiously. "The _last _floorboard in the _last_ room of this PIGSTY!!! Where _is_ it, Karen? The goddamn _deed_ to Great-Granny's Victorian mansion?"

_So that's what he's so pissed off about, is it?_ The figure chuckled to himself, a firm grip on the stiletto as he crept along to wall to the door. Ever so slightly, he peered into the house.

"_Careful_, baby! Don't say you ain't _got_ it again…" Charlie's voice rang through the night as he brandished a crowbar at his defenseless wife who turned to run. Grabbing her, he slammed her head against the wall and held her there, yelling his lungs out, "or so _help_ me, yer brains'll replace the sheetrock on that wall!"

"You worthless bastard!" Karen cried in both anger and fear. "What have you ever done but cause us pain?"

"Hey…fixed the air conditioner!"

A smile crept upon the figures face as he watched in amusement the abused woman's torture. He could see the fear in her posture, as if it were radiating off of her.

"One more time, Karen!" her husband hit her across the face, sending her reeling to the

ground.

"Charlie I…" she choked back tears. "swear…I never saw any deed!"

At this point, Charlie had reached into a drawer and pulled out something shiny and blackish-grey; it was a gun. Furiously, he held up the gun and pointed it straight at her. _Oh no you don't,_ the figure clenched the knife and snuck up behind the pot-bellied hick. _This is my revenge, and I get to do that!_

"Then I guess this is bye-b--" he was cut of as the figure dug his stiletto deep into his back.

"She's right you know…" he stated calmly, although he already knew that the man was dead. "There is no deed… spent my whole childhood searching for it!"

Like a bag of grain the man collapsed on the ground with a thud, the stiletto sticking neatly out. The figure notice that the woman was staring at him with mixed emotions; fear, confusion, happiness, anger, hope. That was common when he was seen in his costume. It wasn't often that one dresses up as a scarecrow.

"Gracious, mother…" he reached for the gun with mock cheerfulness. "You're a worse housekeeper the Granny! Positively stinks in here! Never mind…we'll take care of that."

"Who in the name of god --" Karen started as the scarecrow sprayed a green gas into the air from a small arasol can, but was cut short.

"No, in the name of Gerald Crane… and yourself. It's your baby boy, mother. Jonathan?" He grinned as she gasped and sat petrified at her son who stood glooming over her. "But you wouldn't know about that… Great-Granny Keeny named me. After the son she never got to torture."

Jonathan stared at his mother in joyous triumph. He would kill her like he did all the others, and then his revenge would be complete. His hand tightened on the gun when suddenly there was a sigh coming from behind him, like the coo of a dove. His heart began to beat rapidly as he turned around, to which it nearly stopped.

A scratched-up crib sat in the far corner of the room; pink blankets and little, second-hand stuffed toys surrounded a little infant, no older then ten months, who was sleeping peacefully with her tiny, blonde pig-tailed head on her pink pillow. Anger swelled within him. She had given him up for dead but went and had another baby that she kept? As he watched his half-sister so at peace, his anger for her became greater than ever before.

"And what have we here? Oh dear…" he sneered in malice hatred, pulling the gun out on the infant.

"**NO!! PLEASE!!!**" his mother screamed in terror, but he did not care. He technically had died as a child, so she would as well.

"That's the problem with a bad seed, isn't it, mother?" The gun was right to the baby's head. "…it just grows on and on…"

**TIK**

Before he knew what had happened, the gun had been hit out of his hand. He didn't have to ask what or who had prevented him from his sweet revenge, the batarang that was pinning his gun to the ground was a good enough clue. Oh, and then there was that all familiar voice that came crashing through the door.

"Babies, Jonathan?" Batman lunged at him. "Beneath even your insanity, isn't it?"

"Well, well! Look who's come to join the party!"

"Party's over, I'm afraid." Batman punched the masked villain, followed by a kick in the jaw that sent him flying backwards. "Not hitting back, Scarecrow?"

"Oh, I already have!" he laughed quietly, sitting up in time to see Batman lunging for the gun. Quickly getting to his feet, he walked over to the hero and held out his hand. "I'll take that if you don't mind…"

"What?" he stared at Jonathan in shocked wonder, who had by then removed the burlap sack that had covered his face.

"I said, _I'll_ take the gun."

Batman backed away, a look of shameful fear covering him, "F- Father?"

"The father… but of course." Jonathan couldn't help but smirk at the cowering male protagonist. "Who among us is _ever_ truly free of his father? Even the mighty Batman was once a child!"

"…Father … I-I'm sorry… I…tried… father… _tried_…wasn't fast… enough…"

"_DON'T!!_" Karen screamed at the Batman, clutching to his suit. "_He'll kill all of us!_"

"He can't help it, mother dear…" Jonathan explained, his hand still outreached for the gun. "…he's compelled. Aren't you, old bat? _Real_ trauma, you see, begins in the youth!"

"So true--" an unearthly, yet familiar voice replied, sending shivers down Jonathan's spine. As a bony hand grabbed his lower leg, he slipped and found himself looking at the corpse of Great-Granny Keeny herself. "_--JONATHAN!_"

Crane began to scream in terror as he tried to keep himself from falling on the ground with Granny. Her skeletal hands were determained to drag him in the grave with her.

"The spray…" he realized, turning to the two by standers. "You altered my chemicals!"

"With a little sweat from that scrap I tore from your costume earlier." Batman explained calmly, a protective arm around his mother. "made a little concoction of my own--specifically and only for scarecrows! No one else gets affected!"

"NAAGAGHH!" he fought off the demon, whose red eyes glared at him from deep within the eye sockets. "But how did you… NAGH… disperse--?"

"Air conditioner."

"Fight it… _FIGHT IT_…" he cried in fear as the corpse lunged on top of him. "…only in my mind! **_NO_**!" he ran screaming out of the house, the carcass clinging onto him, her Victorian dress flapping behind her. "**_CAN'T STAND IT! GGGAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!_**"

He ran , ran harder then he ever deemed possible as the terrors consumed him. The bony claws of Granny's corpse dug deep into his skin as she scolded him, going on and on of what filth he was to the Keeny name. Then, just as she had him knee-deep in his grave, she was gone; but the terrors were not. He could hear them as they flew after him. The mixed noise of flapping wings and the cawing struck such a fear in his heart that he preferred the demon and her grave. It was the crows. Looking over his shoulder, his heart nearly gave out at the sight. So many… oh so many. The sky was literally black with them. There was no sound in the world anymore, say for those wings. He ran…and ran…until there was no ground beneath him. He felt himself fall into nothingness, and was soon surrounded in cold, icy wetness.

The river was strong and pulled him straight under, refusing to let him up. He could feel the undercurrent dragging him at such a fast pace, thrashing him here and there as his frail body was hammered against the boulders. There was so much confusion coursing through his mind; with the darkness and deafening whish of the river, he couldn't tell which why was up or down. All he knew was that he needed air and fast. Flailing his arms he tried to find the surface, only to discover more boulders smashing his body.

Suddenly he had no more air, and every thing went black.

THE END?

A/N: this is based off of the comics, but I'm more of a BTAS Scarecrow fan. Hoped you enjoyed.


End file.
